


Appreciating the Stars

by kedgeree



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Humor, M/M, Pining, Post-Reichenbach, Reunion Fail, Romance, Sherlock Mini-Bang 2013
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-01
Updated: 2014-01-01
Packaged: 2018-01-07 01:20:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1113818
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kedgeree/pseuds/kedgeree
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock has some trouble re-entering John’s life after his return, but that's okay...he has a few ideas to try out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Appreciating the Stars

**Author's Note:**

> For our Sherlock Mini-Bang entry, the talented [shakespeares-57th](http://shakespeares-57th.tumblr.com) has created a beautiful comic based on the fic below. Please [go and behold](http://appreciatingthestars.smackjeeves.com/comics/1872440/title/)!!!

Sherlock hit the ground so hard he saw stars. When his vision cleared, he turned his head and watched the backs of John's shoes walking away.

John wasn't limping at all. Sherlock had been worried about that. Maybe John would be so upset that…but, no, he was fine.

That was a relief.

+

When Sherlock had hurt Molly Hooper's feelings with mockery of her Christmas gift, a kiss on the cheek had righted matters tidily. John may not be receptive to such a gesture at this point, so an ambush seemed like a good strategy.

John opened the cupboard door and Sherlock lunged for him.

Sherlock hit the ground so hard he saw stars.

+

It took him nine weeks. It was very hard to stay away, but he wanted it to be a surprise.

John had changed. He had grown a ridiculous moustache. And now Sherlock had proof that he, too, could change. John would appreciate that.

He tapped John politely on the shoulder as he was leaving Tesco. John turned with an inquisitive look, took in the sight of Sherlock and his own new, thick, bushy, ridiculous moustache.  He turned around again and walked silently away.

Sherlock didn't see any stars, and he found he quite missed them.

+

_Asclepias curassavica_ , commonly known as the bloodflower. What could be a more perfect offering? Named for the Greek god of medicine and counting amongst its properties use as a natural emetic, laxative, and cure for intestinal worms. Red buds unfolded to reveal glossy little yellow flowers.

Small. Golden. Perfect.

The sap was also an eye irritant. Sherlock should have remembered that. He must have touched the leaves and then touched his eyes, because they were watering.

He left the little plant on John's doorstep, 221B Baker Street.

+

Sherlock had solved the case quickly and easily, of course, but the press inevitably insisted on a fuss. Cameras flashed in his eyes as he strained to make his face form a smile and to not look to his side where John should be standing.

In the photo that appeared in the paper the next day, he was looking at the empty spot next to him and he was not smiling.

+

Instead of flowers, Sherlock left himself on the front stoop of 221B. Mrs Hudson patted his head when she passed him on her way inside. She brought him a towel when it started to drizzle rain. She brought him a mug of hot tea when the rain stopped.

When John got out of his taxi, he stopped on the pavement and stared at Sherlock.

His face tight with the cold, Sherlock said, "I did it the wrong way round. You never did fail me, but I failed you. I'm sorry."

John didn't leave. He crossed the pavement and sat down heavily next to Sherlock on the steps. He was quiet for a long time before he said, "I would have saved you. If I could."

"If that's what you want…" Sherlock forced himself to draw a painful breath of courage into lungs that suddenly seemed far too small. He moved his hand on the cold concrete step so that the side of his little finger grazed the side of John's little finger.

John's hand moved suddenly to squeeze Sherlock's, so hard it was painful. Gloriously painful. "It's not nearly all I want." And then John smiled at him, a small, tentative, hopeful thing. "But it's a start."

Under the cloudy night sky, Sherlock saw stars.

 


End file.
